


White Desert

by edy



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edy/pseuds/edy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about Christmas, or just any holiday, that makes Party Poison get depressed, unresponsive, and stubborn. Fun Ghoul tries his best to make the Killjoy leader feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Desert

**Author's Note:**

> request: christmas

Party Poison likes the smell of Christmas.

It reminds him of fond memories of his late wife and daughter.

He catches the delicious whiff of ginger and burning wood, and he is sent back to the days of utter joy of being a father around Christmas. He remembers sitting in front of the fireplace with his little Bandit, eating gingerbread men disguised behind black icing masks and suits. "Like superheroes!" she would exclaim, as she helped her mother dress them. "Just like you, Dada! You're my superhero." And she would wrap her arms around his legs and wouldn't let go until her mother told her to go to bed.

And then, it would be a struggle to put her down. She would be squirming and crying "Daddy! Daddy! I want _Daddy_ to tuck me in!" and Poison would have to stay in there until the clock struck the early morning hours because she would demand for one more story—just _one_ more, she promised.

"You're a _very_ good storyteller," she would tell him, and it'll only cause him to spin into another fabricated tale of monsters and crime fighters.

A tear strains itself out of Poison's eye duct, and he hastily brushes it away with the heel of a calloused hand. He sniffs and looks ahead at the fire roaring in the makeshift hearth he and the others had managed to shape for the winter nights.

With another sniff and a tear wiped aside, Poison lowers his head and studies the floor of the diner he and the rest of the Fabulous Killjoys are currently residing. It's connected to Dr. D's small clubhouse. He wanted them all to stay close in fear of the approaching storm that was rumored to come soon, but Poison called that bullshit. They never got snow in the fucking desert. He wanted to go off and travel back to the place he was born, but according to the three votes out of four, he had to stay here and wait out a fake blizzard.

He loudly sighs and brushes his fingers along the dirty hardwood floor. His phalanges bend and twist across the ground, wanting to paint an image for only his eyes to see, but the most he can make out from the little dirt and sand collected on the floor is half a stick figure of his wife. He stares at the thing before scattering it with the ball of his bare feet.

Maybe it isn't meant to be. Maybe he shouldn't even be thinking about his life before Better Living Industries took over and drenched everything in different shades of black and white.

Now that he thinks about it, he really shouldn't be recalling all these painful memories. It's only hurting him and making him imagine the scent of cookies and smoke when the fire had gone out several hours prior, and it's not even possible to bake any type of "homemade treats" without getting the ingredients from a trader, and that's very rare to come across these days.

Poison lets out a little sigh before dropping his head in his hands, seeing his red hair fan out from the cracks in his fingers.

When his hands fall back in his lap, he hears the sound of socked feet shuffle against the floor. It's coming from his left, so it must be one of the Killjoys wanting to quench their late-night thirst, but the footsteps don't continue into the main room of the diner and stop at the refrigerator they revived. Instead, they halt by the doorway that leads into the area Poison's in. He hears a foot tapping, and his ears seem to perk up to listen to it more closely.

"Why aren't you in bed, Poison?" comes the voice of the owner of the tapping foot.

Party Poison doesn't look up. He only lets a lazy hand grab at the collar of the pale-gray button-down he has on for sleep wear. He rubs the material in between index finger and thumb. "I was about to head there, Ghoul," he murmurs, but makes no effort in moving at all.

The youngest of the Fabulous Killjoys takes a deep breath, almost like a frustrated groan. "That's what you told Jet an hour ago and Kobra two hours ago." Poison can hear more footsteps as Ghoul slides forward and plants himself beside the leader of their gang. His hand goes on his back, patting it, rubbing it. "Tell me what's on your mind," he says after yawning.

Poison shakes his head. "I'd rather not," he says stubbornly.

Fun Ghoul yawns once more. "Oh, c'mon, Poison." He rubs his back again. "Let's talk before I decide to go back to bed."

Poison stays silent, causing Ghoul to sigh and stand. "This'll be a while," he mumbles to himself, walking around the diner, gathering items in his arms. Poison, still stationed on the floor, gets up for the first time in several hours and steps toward the window to the right of him. He touches the dull sill and presses his forehead against the pane. He exhales and draws a picture with the condensation.

Ghoul continues to talk to Poison from the other side of the diner. "I don't know why you insist on always acting like this around any holiday. I mean, yeah, I miss my kids and wife as much as the next guy, but Goddamn… Do we even have fire wood? What did you use to make it earlier? You probably don't remember." Poison can hear the clatter of glasses knocking together. "I guess liquor can fuel a fire." Ghoul laughs to himself.

After a few minutes, Poison has drawn a stick figure family of three. He's smiling at it, but ends up frowning when Ghoul stands by him, pressing his head against the glass, almost crushing the small family. His hazel eyes widen as he stares outside. "It's beautiful here—I don't care what anyone says." Ghoul shakes his head. "Dr. D says a blizzard's coming."

Poison snorts and leans his head against Ghoul's. "Doubt it. We never get snow."

Ghoul sighs and wipes the window when it fogs up. "It's pretty cold out."

Poison knows that. His thin button-down isn't doing any good for the goose bumps, but he doesn't want to admit defeat to Fun Ghoul, so he shrugs and remarks, "It's always cold out." He sniffs and turns around, plopping down in the spot he was in before.

He can hear Ghoul giggle a bit. "I know that, Poison, but—never mind. You're being a Downer Debbie right now."

Party Poison slowly nods, raising a leg up to press against his chest. He leans his forehead on his knee. Ghoul walks across the diner again and grabs the glasses Poison heard earlier. He sits down beside Poison and hands him the glass filled with the deep violet substance. "Here," he says, taking a drink from his own glass.

Poison grabs it without question. He used to be sober, but that slowly faded away. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. Besides, the booze and various fancy wines they managed to get their hands on helped relieve himself from the many sources of stress as his status as leader of the Killjoys.

So, based on his nature, he's able to down a whole glass of red wine fast, but he doesn't want another, despite the little critter titled "alcoholism" in his head begging for more.

Poison pushes away his glass and leans against the closest piece of furniture, which, in this case, is a battered, old couch. He tilts back his head, on one of the sofa cushions. He heavily breathes.

Ghoul takes a while to finish his first glass. After it's drained, he refills. "Are you ready to talk?" he asks.

"Getting me drunk isn't going to trigger my ability to spill out my feelings," Poison murmurs, setting his hands on his stomach. His fingers slip into the spaces between two buttons. He strokes the white skin of his stomach.

Ghoul looks at Poison and laughs. "Well, then, explain to me why you wanted to travel across the, um, world. I really want to know."

Poison sniffs. "I just… I wanted to check something."

"Check what?" Ghoul softly asks.

Party Poison's lips tremble together. "If my family was there," he answers in a low voice, and then he finally breaks down. The wall he had built and spray painted "not a crying faggot" on was destroyed by a human wrecking ball who likes to wear a rubber, purple Frankenstein mask.

Poison seems to melt into a puddle because he's folded into a small ball, sobbing into the floor. "I miss my little Bandit. I thought she might still be alive, waiting in Jersey for me."

Ghoul takes in a deep breath, slowly letting it out not long after. He sets down his wine glass and scoots over to Poison, wrapping his arms around his middle, lifting him, helping him sit. He dusts off his back and holds onto his arms. "Pull yourself together," he mumbles, rubbing his thumbs into his biceps. "And she can't, well, she can't be in Jersey, Poison. I sometimes think Lily and Cherry and Miles are there, too, but they're not. We watched BLI kill our families. We watched, Poison. They're dead." Ghoul lightly shakes Poison. "Get over it."

Poison tries to stay strong. He nods. "Okay, Ghoul." He swallows and sniffs and lowers his head.

"Do you want some more alcohol?"

"Just half a drink more."

Fun Ghoul pulls back from Poison and grabs his glass, standing up and heading to get the wine bottle.

Poison straightens up and smooths out his button-down. He subconsciously unbuttons the first three buttons and sticks his hand where the flesh is exposed. He rubs it, curling his fingers into the surprisingly soft skin. It's always good to still have moisturized skin in a time like this.

Ghoul comes back with the glass and the bottle of wine. "I just took this," he says, as he shakes the bottle.

Poison nods, and he scans Ghoul, noting how he's wearing shin-high, gray socks; a short-sleeved, black-and-yellow tee; and ridiculous purple boxers. His hair is in his face as he takes his seat by Poison again. "I love this stuff," he comments, pouring some into the glass he held in his hand.

Poison agrees, and Ghoul gives him the glass, spilling a small amount on their hands. "Fuck," they both murmur. Poison shakes it off, while Ghoul resorts to licking. Poison shakes his head with a smile and drains the glass within a second, mentally forming back up the wall in his mind.

He throws the glass across the room. "It is cold in here," he says, rubbing his arms.

Ghoul laughs under his breath. "We were going to freeze if we went with your plan, Poison." He points at him before going to sit on his knees, reaching over to grab a box of matches to his left. He glances at Poison. "Pour some wine in the hearth," he says, striking a match.

Poison does as he's told, and Ghoul tosses in the match. A few minutes later, they have a warm fire in front of them. It's small, but it's something to keep them warm in the meantime.

They're silent for a while before Fun Ghoul groans a bit and rubs his eyes. "I'm tired, man."

"I'm not," Party Poison replies, his gaze connected with the fire. He's always been fascinated with it.

Ghoul groans again. "I'm going to bed."

Poison instantly frowns, and he grabs at Ghoul's sleeve before he could get a chance to stand. "Don't go. I'll be alone."

And their eyes seem to fuse together, letting each of their minds melt into one because Ghoul nods and scoots closer to Poison. "I won't."

They sit by the fire until it dies, until the big clock in Battery City chimes three times. Party Poison always wondered how they could still hear it, judging by their location, but he never follows up on those thoughts.

"Let's go to bed," Ghoul suggests, and he pulls his hand from Poison's hip. The waistband of his white boxers snap back into place, and Poison stops holding onto Ghoul's arm as if it were a life line. He finally agrees to go to sleep.

They stand, and Ghoul tidies up, grabbing what's left of the wine and stuffing it in the refrigerator. Poison awkwardly stands in the spot where he was previously sitting. He bites at his lip, pushes hair behind his ear, and looks off to the right, gazing outside.

"Poison?"

He turns his head and sees Ghoul standing by the doorway that leads to the bedrooms. He beckons him over with his hand. "C'mon, honey. I'll sleep with you."

His heart flutters in his chest as he walks over to Ghoul, letting him wrap his arm around his waist and lead him down the hallway and into a small bedroom with the words "Party Poison" written on the door in bright-yellow paint.

Ghoul closes the door behind them, and Poison settles down on the large mattress that almost takes up the whole room. A single floor lamp is the other object in the room, but that doesn't take up too much space, unlike the bed, but Poison doesn't mind. He enjoys it in here.

Party Poison lies down on the makeshift bed, surprised at how the mattress has managed to stay soft and bouncy despite all the stuff he's done on here before.

Ghoul slips into the bed beside him, pulling the thin blanket over them, and at first, Poison thinks they're going to sleep, but the alcohol in his system wants him to stay up, so he ends up turning toward Ghoul. He opens his mouth to let him know he isn't planning to sleep any time soon, but he gets cut off by a wet mouth touching his.

He should be disgusted, but he probably tastes bad, too, so he doesn't judge the way Ghoul tastes.

He, instead, raises a hand and rests it against the side of Ghoul's neck, tilting his head to the side and letting their tongues touch, letting them savor the taste of the other Killjoy.

Within a short amount of time, the blanket is thrown off the mattress, Poison's managed to slip his fingers into Ghoul's socks to pull them off, and Ghoul's able to unbutton Poison's top and rub his thumbs into his skin, his ribs, his nipples.

And that short amount of time turns into a long time, and when they gain a grasp of their surroundings, the big BL/ind clock spits out four rings that cause the two Fabulous Killjoys to shiver as they hold each other and release themselves from the overwhelming high they were experiencing.

Fun Ghoul slips away from Poison, deeply breathing. He says things under his breath to himself, but the tired Poison doesn't catch them. He rests his head against the single pillow, closing his eyes. He jumps a bit when he feels a damp towel on his neck, but it's only Ghoul.

"Your hair dye ran," he says quietly. "I didn't know you just dyed it." He leans in, then, digging his nose into the Poison's locks.

Poison only shrugs and reaches out, grabbing a hold of the necklace Ghoul hadn't taken off. Poison doesn't quite know what it is, but he still rubs his fingers along the surface as Ghoul continues to wipe his neck and other body parts clean like a mother would to a dirty child.

Ghoul tosses the stained towel to the floor with the blanket and proceeds to get dressed. Poison lazily follows suit.

While Poison pulls on one of Ghoul's socks—with Ghoul wearing the other—Ghoul stands up on his tiptoes to peek out the window hanging above Poison's bed. "Wow," he says under his breath. "Poison, come here!"

Poison can imagine a tail on Ghoul right now. He's like a little puppy-dog who's seen a bone he wants or another animal who wants to play.

In this case, it's neither because when Poison looks out the window without the need of standing on his toes, he sees not a toy Ghoul could be interested in nor another person trying to join the Fabulous Killjoys. The only thing he can make out is… well, _nothing_ , and he's about to question Ghoul at what he's supposed to be looking at, but it suddenly hits him after a few seconds' time.

The desert is covered in a thick sheet of white snow, and more of it is falling as they're looking at it.

Poison smiles, and Ghoul bounces on his heels. "We can play in it tomorrow—later today, I mean." He stares at Poison with wide hazel eyes. "Can we?"

Poison ruffles his hair. "Of course," he answers.

They smile before lying in the bed. Ghoul grabs the blanket and pulls it over them. " _Baby, it's cold outside_ ," he sings under his breath, curling into Party Poison. "Do you remember that song?" he asks, touching the collar on Poison's shirt.

Poison wraps his arms around Ghoul. "Yes, I do."

Ghoul laughs a bit. He lowers his head, closing his eyes. "What about 'White Christmas'?"

"Yes, I remember all the Christmas songs."

"Good… Merry Christmas, Poison." He snakes his arms around his middle. He leans his head against his chest, and Poison lays his on top of Ghoul's fluffy black hair.

"Merry Christmas," Poison murmurs, assuming the events of the previous night will be replayed the following evening, and he doesn't know if he's happy about that.

But he doesn't let it bother him right now. He moves in close to Fun Ghoul, kissing his ear before drifting off into a slumber.

Overhead, snow falls from puffy, gray clouds to only land on the ground to stitch together another painful remainder to Party Poison that he will never have another Christmas where he'll be truly happy.


End file.
